


The Moon Spilling In

by TheDVirus



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Dreams and Nightmares, Friends to Lovers, Full Moon, Hand Jobs, Insomnia, Kissing, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Male Slash, Moonlight, Mutual Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Naked Cuddling, Nightmares, Post-Coital Cuddling, Sharing a Bed, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-06 11:37:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14056164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDVirus/pseuds/TheDVirus
Summary: For centuries, the full moon has been reputed to have strange effects on disturbed minds. Is it simple superstition or can it help Ed and Oswald with their insomnia following their respective experiences as Arkham inmates?Fifth Prompt for Nygmobblepot Week 2018: 'Cuddling’





	The Moon Spilling In

‘Didn’t sleep well?’ Ed asked, eyes locked on the television.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Oswald stifle yet another yawn: his third in as many minutes. They were sitting in the mansion drawing room, Ed playing a video game and Oswald reading or at least trying to. Ed had noticed Oswald's head droop a few times only for him to startle himself awake.

‘No’.

‘Me neither’, Ed said, expertly executing the combo required to topple the boss.  
His brow furrowed as his character took a slight amount of damage in the act and readjusted his grip on his video game controller. Just further proof that he was tired.

‘Is your bedroom alright?’ Oswald asked, brow furrowing, ‘You know Olga will bring you anything you need’.

‘The room’s wonderful’, Ed said, saving the game, ‘That’s the problem. It’s hard to explain’.

‘No bars on the window, the bed’s too comfy and the night’s too quiet’, Oswald rhymed off effortlessly, ‘You have more space than you know what to do with and think you’ve gone deaf when you wake up in the morning because there’s no wake up call blaring in your ears’.

‘Does it get easier?’ Ed asked.

‘With time’.

‘Why haven’t you been sleeping then?’

A flicker passed over Oswald’s face: bad memories swimming beneath the surface of his eyes like circling sharks waiting to bite. Ed saw Oswald swallow hard and paste an unconvincing flippant smile on his face.

‘Just bad dreams’, Oswald said in a nonchalant tone that fooled neither himself or Ed, ‘That’s all’.

‘About Arkham?’ Ed asked carefully.

Oswald didn’t reply, choosing instead to feign interest in Ed’s game. Oswald usually enjoyed watching Ed play games (having little talent for it himself) but, most likely because he was tired, all he could hear were the echoes of his mother’s screams in his ears.  
Every night the dream started differently but ended the same. Sometimes he was running down a dark corridor, his footsteps painfully loud on the slippery floor, doomed never to reach the exit sign at the end. In other versions he was pelting desperately up a spiral staircase, lungs burning and the dream offering no refuge from the constant pain of his bad leg, towards a glass dome which promised light, fresh air and freedom.  
But always his destination was the same.  
That awful luxurious table set with plates of food so succulent it was almost grotesque and a roaring fire behind a large leather chair at the head of the table. Oswald would inevitably end up in that chair, wrists strapped down, a leather thong or muzzle bruising his mouth. Looking up, he would see pallid, dismembered limbs hanging from the dark ceiling on butcher hooks, dark droplets of blood hitting the wooden surface of the table, staining it. Sweat would drip down Oswald’s neck even as his skin would prickle from the heat behind him. He would writhe and strain as his mother would appear, wisp like in a chair nearest to him. She would speak to him gently with a smile, patting his hand. She would ignore the food beginning to putrefy, the incessant buzzing of flies as loud as a jet engine as the mansion table would reveal itself as an ogre’s kitchen. Oswald would gag trying to warn his mother of the dark figure approaching behind her: a monster that wore his face and carried a butcher knife in his hand.  
The light would die from his mother’s pleading eyes within her blood splattered face, his doppleganger’s grin shining in the light from the fire and Oswald would wake up tangled in his blankets, soaked in sweat, shaking and freezing cold.

Oswald had hoped having Ed around would help to distract him and Ed’s busy schedules certainly kept his days full and interesting. But the dreams had not stopped. Oswald was beginning to get worried they never would. The fear gas had been experimental: perhaps this was a terrible unforeseen side effect? Night terrors punctuated only by a desperate self-inflicted insomnia.

After a few seconds of silence from Oswald, Ed obligingly unpaused his game and returned his own attention to it. He made his way through the level, trying to focus on it and not the nagging concern for Oswald. He knew whatever Strange had done to Oswald had been horrific. After all he had seen the tragic results: a penguin with its wings clipped, smiling brainlessly at Ed after suffering humiliation at the hands (or hand) of a former henchman and the murderer of his mother. Ed didn’t want to pry and knew there was no point in doing so until Oswald was good and ready. Oswald always showed great concern for Ed’s wellbeing but could be almost unbearably stubborn when dealing with his own pain.

Ed froze as he felt a gradual weight settle on his shoulder. It was not unpleasant and caused a familiar sensation to stir in Ed’s nether regions. It had been growing stronger recently and Ed had a suspicion the persistent ‘itch’ was contributing to his nocturnal disquiet. He glanced down and saw Oswald’s head resting on his shoulder. His friend’s body rose and fell slowly in peaceful sleep. Oswald’s eyelids flickered and Ed marvelled (not for the first time) how long his eyelashes were. Oswald gave a moan, almost as if in longing, and Ed couldn’t help but subtly grind his knees together. Oswald felt warm against Ed, his hot breath pleasantly tickling his neck.  
Was the problem as simple as both of them craving companionship? Ed knew how terrifying it was to be alone with your thoughts. Was that what Oswald needed to quiet his mind? Someone to share the lonely, dark hours of silence and uncertainty when past horrors and phantom pains seemed to somehow bleed into a shadowy reality?  
He was so busy building his strategy that he accidentally walked his unfortunate avatar into an explosive trap. As he burst into bloody chunks and the screen was drenched in gratuitous yet satisfying gore, Oswald stirred and his heavy hardback fell onto the floor with a 'thunk'. Oswald woke up instantly and gave a start. Eyes wide, he scrambled away from Ed until the arm of the chair halted his retreat.

‘I’m so sorry Ed! I-I’m just so tired I-‘

Ed paused his game, his mind made up.

‘Oswald, I have a proposition for you’, he said.

**

‘Can I come in?’

‘Of course!’ Ed said, fluffing a pillow, ‘It’s your house after all’.

Oswald entered the room, looking around suspiciously.

‘What’s wrong?’ Ed asked.

Ed looked around the room himself, trying to identify any obvious flaws. They had mutually agreed to use a ‘neutral’ room for their experiment and Olga had cleaned it accordingly. 

‘Nothing, uh, I just don’t think I’ve ever been in this room before’, Oswald joked.

‘Very funny’, Ed smiled, placing the pillow back on the bed, ‘Which side do you want?’

‘I don’t mind’, Oswald shrugged, ‘Maybe the left?’

Ed nodded obligingly even as his brain offered the helpful fact that instinctively most men chose the side nearest to the door as their preferred sleeping area. Oswald had not done so and Ed took it as reassurance that Oswald subconsciously trusted Ed to keep him safe. He also noticed that Oswald was wearing near identical pyjamas to the set Ed had given him in his apartment. Ed wondered if he should have worn pyjamas rather than a t-shirt and briefs but then remembered he hadn’t bought any. He didn’t like wearing pyjamas: he usually ended up too warm if he wore them and he could rarely find a pair that fit him anyway.  
As Oswald made his way to his chosen side of the bed, he looked up into the canopy of the four poster bed and saw Ed’s craft project suspended from it.  
A web within a disk hovered above the bed, a black shiny bead nestled at the centre and blue feathers hung from decorative tassels. Amongst the feathers, there were several smaller scale versions of the origami penguins Ed was good at making.

‘A dreamcatcher’, Oswald identified. 

‘You don’t like it?’

‘No, no It’s lovely. I’m just a bit surprised to see a scientist like you subscribing to superstition’.

‘Being a scientist involves keeping an open mind’, Ed said, pulling the blanket back.

Oswald reached up and gently tapped one of the origami penguins hanging from the dreamcatcher causing it to spin slowly. It bumped into one of its fellows setting them all dancing.

‘Did you make this entire thing?’ Oswald asked, marvelling at the delicate shapes and Ed’s meticulous craftsmanship.

‘Apparently attaching positive things to it helps increase it’s effectiveness’, Ed said, waggling his fingers eagerly as if casting a spell.

‘What are the penguins made of?’

‘That one was made from a menu from that Chinese takeout we both like’, Ed continued, pointing at each penguin in turn, ‘That is a label of spicy mustard and that one’s a leftover ‘Vote for Cobblepot’ rosette. The ‘spider’ in the centre of the web is shrapnel from the wound in your shoulder that I shaped and polished up’.  
Oswald smiled fondly at Ed’s recycling of the shrapnel. He wasn’t surprised Ed had kept it. Just amazed how Ed could turn something so morbid into something so smooth and shiny. Transforming something that was designed to cause harm into a protective talisman. Oswald was marvelling at how the smooth surface of the former bullet caught the light when he caught a hint of a familiar flowery scent.

‘That smell’.

‘Lillies’, Ed said gently, ‘Just a bit of perfume sprayed on it as a finishing touch’.

Oswald sighed, feeling a slight lump in his throat. Both at the memories the flower evoked of his mother but also at Ed’s thoughtfulness. 

‘It’s beautiful Ed’, Oswald said, smiling, ‘I feel more relaxed already’.

‘Shall we then?’ Ed invited, flicking the light off.

They both climbed into bed.  
Ed moved from side to side, the soft mattress beneath him and heavy blanket still a novelty after weeks of shivering between Arkham standard issue bedding.  
As he settled, he noted how Oswald had begun to gather the blankets around himself like a protective barrier. It was a habit Ed had noticed back when Oswald had stayed in his apartment. Oswald always slept with his head beneath the blanket, hiding from sight. Ed privately theorised that it was to provide some kind of reassurance that his body was obscured while in such a vulnerable state of unconsciousness. He wondered if Oswald even knew he was doing it.

‘You might feel more comfortable if we lie closer together’, Ed said mildly, ‘You might fall out of the bed’.

Oswald considered Ed’s theory and acquiesced, no doubt reflecting on the potential painful awakening should he tumble from the bed and inadvertently impact his knee.

‘Oh, okay’, he said and inched closer to Ed. He hesitated, looking to Ed as if awaiting permission to draw closer, like a stray animal.

‘Don’t worry Oswald’, Ed smiled encouragingly, ‘It’s just me’.

Oswald nodded matter of factly but Ed could sense the gratitude in the way Oswald’s shoulders relaxed and he easily settled near the middle of the bed.

‘If I’d known you would be so casual about this, I would have suggested we share the bed in your apartment’, Oswald said, ‘It wasn’t right that you had to give it up to me’.

‘Oh no. My bed was too small for you and my long, bony legs’, Ed said, waving a hand unconcernedly, ‘Besides, it was important you had it for your recovery’.

‘You’re always looking after me’, Oswald said reflectively, hand straying to his long healed shoulder.

‘I’d say we’re about even’, Ed replied, giving a shiver, ‘Considering the Hell you liberated me from’.

‘I couldn’t leave you in there’.

They lay side by side on their backs, both staring into the canopy of the four poster. The room was gradually bathed in a milky light as the full moon emerged from behind a cloud.

‘You’ve never told me what they did to you in there’, Ed said softly, ‘If you’re not ready I understand but I just want you to know I’m here for you’.

He turned his head to regard Oswald properly.

‘God knows I wasn’t there for you the first time’, he concluded.

Oswald shook his head, his pale eyes shining in the dim light as he faced Ed seriously.

‘You can’t keep beating yourself up about that Ed. I’ve told you before, it’s fine. I probably would’ve done the same thing if I’d been in your position. Just be glad we’re both here now’.

Ed was overwhelmed by the sudden urge to show his gratitude to Oswald but was cautious of physical displays of affection. His colleagues at the GCPD had never seemed to appreciate them but then again, Oswald was often the one to initiate hugs. Would it be different in this setting though? All he could do was ask.

‘Oswald, can I-can I touch you?’

‘I’ve never actually, well…’ Oswald said, moving his hands as if trying to select an appropriate word.

‘Cuddled?’ Ed offered.

Oswald nodded, hands fidgeting. Ed cursed the over familiar term he had chosen. 

‘It’s okay’, Ed said placatingly, ‘We don’t have to-‘

‘No, no!’ Oswald protested, ‘I just mean, how does it work? Do I put an arm around you or…?’

‘There isn’t exactly a textbook way to do it’.

‘Then…just do what comes naturally’, Oswald offered and lay still.

Ed smoothly slipped his arm beneath Oswald’s shoulders and pulled him slightly closer. To his surprise, Oswald actually moved with him, laying his head on Ed’s chest. Ed prayed Oswald wouldn’t hear his racing heart.

‘How’s this?’ Ed asked.

‘That feels nice’, Oswald replied.

They lay in silence for a few moments and Ed automatically began to stroke Oswald’s arm. Ed was surprised how natural it felt to be in bed with Oswald. With Kristen he had always been concerned about not infringing upon her space and she had not liked cuddling. Ed had not done much cuddling but he knew he liked it. He knew he liked this.

'Great. Now we're in bed, I don't feel like sleeping', Oswald grumbled.

'Yep', Ed agreed, 'Typical'.

‘Ed, can I touch you now?’ Oswald asked hesitantly.

Ed licked his lips and nodded.

‘Of course. Please do’.

Oswald draped his arm around Ed’s middle, his fingers taking hold of his t-shirt. Ed smiled fondly at the almost childlike gesture. He wondered if Oswald had hugged his mother like that when he was younger.  
After a few minutes, Ed felt Oswald’s hand move across his stomach and slide down. Ed suppressed a shiver as Oswald’s fingernails swirled against his hip in feather light circles. Ed’s toes clenched and unclenched as he felt his cock pulse in response to Oswald’s ministrations.

‘I’ve always liked your legs you know’, Oswald said quietly.

Oswald’s fingers drifted over, too direct to be accidental and made contact with a particularly private part of Ed’s anatomy. It was rock hard. Ed didn’t dare move though he knew Oswald had definitely noticed it from his soft, surprised inhalation.

Ed looked down at Oswald and their eyes met. Both saw realization and acceptance in the other’s diluted pupils: a mute and mutual acknowledgement.

‘Oswald I-‘ Ed began but felt the sudden, yet gentle pressure of Oswald’s fingertips on his mouth. They traced along his lips softly.

‘I know’, Oswald said, withdrawing his hand, ‘Me too’.

Oswald stirred slightly and Ed felt a light pressure rest on his leg. Oswald was just as aroused as he was.

‘I-I didn’t plan for it to happen this way’, Ed said, ‘For you to find out this way’.

‘Me neither’, Oswald admitted but then looked at Ed with hopeful eyes, ‘But…it _is_ happening isn’t it?’

‘Do you want it to?’ Ed breathed, feeling his heart leap in his breast even as he didn’t dare hope Oswald meant what Ed thought he meant.

Oswald looked thoughtful for a moment and Ed had to fight the urge to laugh deliriously when he saw Oswald give a definite nod, his rosy cheeks practically glowing in the gloom.

‘How long?’ Oswald asked, eyes lowered bashfully.

‘Since the first moment I saw you’, Ed answered truthfully, ‘Even though I thought I’d blown it at the time. You?’

‘It took me a little longer’, Oswald confessed then gave a laugh, ‘Then again, you always have been smarter than me’.

Oswald’s breath hitched as he felt Ed raise his chin up. 

‘Flattery will get you everywhere’, Ed whispered, drawing close.

‘Well, it got me this far’, Oswald replied eyes closing automatically, ‘Didn’t it?’

They kissed gently, both sighing as their warm lips made contact briefly before drawing back. Oswald’s eyes were wide with wonder and Ed realised he had been Oswald’s first kiss.  
Overcome with gratitude and excitement for what they were about to share together, Ed reached out.

‘You look so beautiful in the moonlight’, Ed said, gracing Oswald’s face with his palm.

‘I am a lunatic after all’, Oswald joked, leaning his head into Ed’s touch like a cat seeking attention.

‘That makes two of us’, Ed said, licking his lips, ‘Oswald, I know what will help us sleep, if you’re ready?’

‘Help me forget’, Oswald pleaded, drawing Ed closer, ‘Help me sleep. Please’.

Ed exhaled shakily as Oswald slowly bucked his hips upwards, the tip of his erection poking against Ed’s own arousal tenting his briefs.

‘Please touch me’, Oswald continued, ‘Let me touch you’.

Ed was busy trying to formulate an affirmative yet similarly flirtatious reply when Oswald’s patience finally ran out and he all but lunged at Ed.

Ed taken aback by Oswald’s unexpected speed, offered no resistance as Oswald fastened his lips to his in a hungrier, more demanding kiss.  
The kiss was like lightning, spurring them both on to the higher heights of ecstasy as they finally gave in to their urges. Their tongues entwined, the hot, languid sensations mingling with the electrifying sensation of them running their hands over each other, exploring what they had previously only imagined. Ed grabbed Oswald’s hair in a fist, his other hand stroking Oswald’s neck and Oswald clamped his hands on Ed’s shoulders, holding him in place. Ed moaned after a few minutes as he felt Oswald remove his hands but then felt Oswald fumbling at his briefs. 

Ed snarled and yanked them off, throwing them out of the bed and onto the floor, soon to be followed by his similarly discarded t-shirt. He looked questioningly at Oswald’s buttons and was rewarded with frantic nodding from Oswald. Ed physically tore the shirt open, the buttons popping off and Oswald moaned at the erotic display of destruction. Ed began to lathe Oswald’s neck with his tongue. Oswald squirmed beneath him, savouring the sensation. Ed gave Oswald as much time as he needed to remove his trousers, conscious of his damaged knee.  
When they finally hit the floor, Ed reached down and discovered to his delight that Oswald had seemingly gone commando as if in anticipation of this very result. His flesh was almost luminescent beneath the moon, the purple scar on his shoulder like a dark tattoo. 

Oswald’s head lolled back as he finally felt Ed’s fingers enclose around his pulsing member even as he reached for Ed’s own cock. He looked through the window at the moon above, feeling as if it was swallowing his field of vision, eclipsing the green of his eyes.  
Ed hissed though his teeth with relish as Oswald’s cool, thin fingers mingled with the furious, insistent heat that was threatening to drive him into a frenzy. He hazily wondered if perhaps the moon did have something to do with seeing Oswald’s glazed over, longing eyes as they began to stroke him.  
Ed mirrored the gesture and was rewarded with a trill like noise from Oswald. Every doubt he had ever had about his inexperience and ability to please a man were silenced in the wake of such a heavenly sound.  
Oswald watched Ed’s face hungrily, savouring how he could see Ed’s darkness beginning to surface: a beautiful predator hidden within those warm dark eyes, just begging to be set loose. The knowledge that he held the key to such a savage creature’s cage was intoxicating to Oswald. As was the desire to let Ed loose, to have him mark him as his own.  
Ed growled deep in his throat as he felt Oswald swirl his thumb over his head, feeling the oily sensation of precum clinging to Oswald’s skin. The gradual concentric movement fanned the flames of Ed’s arousal, making the lower part of his stomach feel like a furnace as he began to buck his hips slowly but luxuriously.  
In response, Oswald began to pump harder and faster, spurred on by Ed’s obvious desire for him. Ed once again mirrored the gesture and Oswald cried out again at the incredible sensation of being touched so intimately. It had never felt this good with his own hand! Oswald gasped in surprise as Ed’s head suddenly lunged forward like a striking snake and cried out as he felt Ed’s teeth clench into his shoulder. The animalistic display of ownership made him quiver but the sensation of Ed sucking at his flesh made him writhe, his toes curling and uncurling spasmodically. He looked at Ed and met eyes so dark they were almost black, the light of the moon reflected in them as a crescent.  
Ed sucked harder as the fingers of Oswald’s free hand dug into the skin of his back like a bird of prey’s claws and grinned, the salt of Oswald’s flesh tingling on his tongue. As expected, Oswald began to buck his own hip frantically, chasing the sensation like an addict seeking their next high. Ed could feel Oswald melting into him, whispering incomprehensible gibberish as he shuddered and squirmed. Ed could only make out one repeated word spilling from Oswald’s soft lips as it echoed in tandem with his own racing heart.  
_More. More. More._

Oswald’s hand slid up Ed’s back and his fingers entwined with Ed’s mussed hair, holding him in place. He could feel his arousal building to its inevitable peak, uncoiling like a eel in his guts ready to strike his core and electrify his senses. He shook his head in defiance. He never wanted this to end!  
Ed, hearing Oswald’s panting grow heavier, realised they were nearly at the threshold. Tossing his head back, licking his lips, he looked down at Oswald.  
Oswald’s pupils were blown wide as they gazed up at Ed and Ed felt himself drawn down as if by a physical, magnetic force. He kissed Oswald on the mouth again, their tongues lashing and grips on each other’s cocks tightening as they entered the end game.  
Oswald nipped at Ed’s bruised lips as he felt the threshold rising up before him, his whole body alive with heat and sensation. Ed abandoned all restraint as he felt Oswald moan into his mouth, the low noise seeming to reverberate through his very bones, making his heart sing as it pounded against his ribs.  
Both of them were moaning now, noises of sheer exaltation and erotic desire echoing to create a chorus of longing and arousal. 

They came together: a pair of crazed predators howling at the moon above.

Cum spilt between their clenched fingers, gleaming in the moonlight, as they collapsed together, overcome by their mutual climax as they rode out the last, fleeting waves of pleasure. 

The blanket had been cast off at some point during their mutual masturbation leaving them both fully exposed to each other for the first time. Ed moved his legs around Oswald’s protectively, cradling his injured limb protectively, his arms enfolding Oswald. Oswald brushed some mussed curls off Ed’s face and Ed ruffled Oswald’s feather like hair fondly before laying his forehead against Oswald’s in deliberate mimicry of a pose often observed amongst bird’s. Hearing Oswald laugh softly, Ed knew the reference had not been lost on him. As the tremors began to finally subside, Ed got to his feet and went to the door as Oswald began to pull the blanket back onto the bed.  
Ed went to the bathroom next door (after a cursory glance around the door just in case Olga was in the vicinity) and retrieved some toilet paper. Once they were suitably cleaned, they settled in beside each other once more. Oswald lay on his front, arms folded beneath the pillow, the picture of contentment. Ed lay on his back, arms behind his head in a stereotypical pose of satisfaction that he deemed was rather appropriate given the circumstances.

‘So, how do you feel about cuddling now?’ Ed asked teasingly.

‘Ssh’, Oswald said, placing a fingertip on Ed’s lips.

Ed smiled as he saw Oswald’s eye glint mischievously as it peeked up at him from beneath the blanket. He kissed Oswald’s fingertips tenderly, savouring the tang of Oswald’s sweat on his tongue.

‘I’ll tell you in the morning’, Oswald whispered, nestling down into the crook of Ed’s shoulder as he felt sleep come to him at last.


End file.
